


Small Red Boy

by SquidKitties



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Song fic, like really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquidKitties/pseuds/SquidKitties
Summary: "I raised him up so proud and motherly."





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Small Red Boy" ~ AJJ  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WpaDUEvC2c

It’s there when she returns from her duty. A squirming scrap of ragged brown fur, tucked into the crevice of a hollow tree. His frantic squalling stifled not even by the dense forest foliage. Crying for a multitude of reasons his young self could not know. For his mother, for food, for warmth. Perhaps even for his lifeless siblings.  
Two sisters. One born unmoving, the other left shortly after arriving. Both buried in a secluded, tucked away spot, so that no fox or badger may get to them.  
She grasped the still mewling creature by the scruff, afraid his cries would be heard by the others. The sudden movement proved to be quite vexing, a crooked tail lashing back and forth as his tiny features twisted into a look of displeasure.  
His chosen foster mother wasn’t in any better mood. Having the audacity to complain about another mouth to feed; that she could barely take care of her own plump, lively kits. Protesting that it’s not her job to look after another’s unwanted. She finally agreed to look after him, once the name of his father was mentioned.  
Knowing she had handed a kit over to a queen who was only interested in the reputation and status of nursing the deputy’s son, his true mother gave him one last look over. He had very little resemblance to her, she thought. Save for the grizzled fur and slightly snub nose. The long, dark fur and paws far too big for him were definitely traits inherited from his father, who he bears a great likeness to.   
She calms herself and turns to leave, confident in her ability to dissemble the reality of her son’s heritage. She has yet to reach the exit when he lets out a squeak, yawns, and opens his eyes.  
Burning, bright orange eyes, proclaiming with undaunted sagacity, “I am the truth.”

~

The others gather and watch as he plays with his foster siblings. She overhears them saying things, how he is a fine child. Playful and curious with an acute sense for learning. The cutest thing they’ve ever seen. All of them standing around eager to shower the new arrival with adoration.  
There is no sincerity in the praises.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for an English assignment. I'll probably come back to it.


End file.
